Captivation
by Sunset
Summary: Goren has an admirer.


CAPTIVATION 

"No, I didn't hear anything. Sheila was always awake before me, and this morning…when she wasn't…I went to her room, I figured she'd over slept…but, but…oh God." Goren heard the familiar words, his ears almost on automatic pilot, hearing the words, but _listening_ to the voice, the incarnations, the pauses, the breaths. He believed her. At least knew that she believed what she was saying. 

"I know how hard this must be for you, but if you could just think, was there anyone who would have wanted to hurt Sheila? Anyone she had an argument with, anyone who might have a grudge?" He cocked his head to the side and watched her eyes as he spoke to her, looking for that spark of memory, the glance away from him that would signal some kind of recall. He didn't get it, her eyes never left his.

"I, I don't think so." 

"Thank you, and if you think of anything…" he handed her his card, "please let us know." 

Det. Goren turned his back on the girl, and moved toward the bedroom and the body of the girls (former) roommate. The girl, Callie, stood still, watching him, transfixed, until a uniformed officer took her elbow and led her out into the apartment.

"The window was broken from the outside, glass on the carpet," Det. Eames told Goren as he walked up beside her. Two people from the ME's office were lifting the body up and into the black bag. Goren watched them, and for a moment he thought of the roommate he had just interviewed, Callie, and worried how the sight of her friend in a body bag might effect her, then pushed it to the back of his mind. Drawing out his white handkerchief and laying it over his right palm, he placed his hand on the windowsill, and leaned out through the space where the window used to be. "They lift any prints?" 

"Plenty. Most are partials." Det. Eames absent-mindedly tucked hair behind her ear. 

"Let's go talk to the boyfriend." Goren strode out of the bedroom, and with a final glance around the crime scene, Eames followed.

"Remember, let us know if you think of anything, no matter how insignificant you think it is." Goren said to Callie, raising his hand almost in salute. 

"I will." She answered, with a kind of wishful admiration, but Bobby Goren didn't hear that infliction, he was already out the door.

*****

"The boyfriends got an alibi," Goren told his boss, Capt. Deakins as he tossed his coat onto his desk, then sat down, sprawling his legs out in front of him. "Said he was at a bar called Shooters."

"We checked, the bartender remembers him." Eames added. "I'm beginning to think this was a break in gone bad. Guy breaks in thinking no one's at home, victim wakes up, he kills her." Setting her casebook on her desk, she too, sat, almost defeated.

Both Det. Eames and Capt. Deakins look at Goren for his opinion. He had an intent look on his face; his eyes focused somewhere else and one hand covering his mouth. "Let's see what latent got from the prints." 

*****

It had been a long day, but Bobby had an equally long night ahead of him. With no wife, or girlfriend who'd be missing him at home, he'd made the unconscious decision to stay and reread the case file. 

Det. Bobby Goren has an unusual thought process, one even he couldn't explain if asked. Mental pictures entwine with words and body language from interviews, both witness and suspect. Most of the time, there is that one thing that nags at the back of his mind. That one piece that just doesn't fit, until finally, it makes its' way up, and Goren finally understands the answer. He knows who, how, and even why. But this one was different. There didn't seem to be a reason for this girl to have been killed. And more, there wasn't anything nagging. "Oh hell," he mutters to the almost deserted squad room "maybe Eames is right. Just a random act of violence." The phone on his desk rings as he's closing the manila folder with "Brakett, Sheila – Homicide" written on it.

"Detective Goren, Major Cases" he answered.

"Det. Goren? This is Callie Goldis, Sheila's roommate, from this morning…" she paused waiting for acknowledgement he remembered her.

"Yes, Miss Goldis, have you thought of something that might help?"

"No, actually, oh, Detective…. I'm so scared. I mean I always have been a little, but now….what if he comes back? Oh God, I mean, Sheila and I flipped a coin for that room when we moved in, that could have been me!"

"Ok, ok, take deep breaths" Bobby paused and listened to her take two deep breaths, letting each one out slowly, as if she was mentally counting to ten. "Now," he continued, "there's probably no reason to worry. We're thinking this was a break in gone bad. I really don't think he'll be back." Bobby waited to see if this calmed her down any.

"Well, ok, if you're sure. I'll…I'll try to sleep…"

"Why don't you spend a few days with a friend…with your family" Goren suggested.

"I've only been here a few weeks. Sheila was the only one I knew" she paused, "and now you…"

"Tell you what" Goren glanced at his watch, "I'm almost done here, I'll come by just to make sure everything's locked down, ok?"

"That'd be wonderful, thank you." 

Twenty minutes later Goren was knocking on her front door. Callie answered it, wearing shorts and a sweatshirt with the neck hole cut to bare her shoulders.

"I'm so sorry, I just didn't know who else to call…Sheila was the only person in New York that I knew…" she trailed off, as if she expected him to interrupt her. 

"No need to apologize, this is on my way home." There was something different about the girl, Bobby thought, something in the way she was holding herself. That morning she had looked him in the eyes directly, tonight she seemed…shy. 

"Oh, well…could I get you something to drink? Or, are you on duty. Cops on the TV always say they can't have a drink because they're on duty." She smiled at him, proud of her knowledge of the police force.

"Ah, no, I'm not on duty, but, nothing thanks. I'll just go have a look at how they boarded up the window." Twelve hours ago there had been a broken body on the bed. Now, the bloody sheets and even the mattress had been taken away by CSI, the glass had been swept up off the carpet, and plywood now stood where glass should be. Running a finger along the edge, looking for, he didn't know what, he realized Callie was talking to him

"…live close to here?"

"I'm sorry, what was that?"

"I said, so you live close to here?"

"Oh, not to far. This, this wasn't out of the way, please don't concern yourself with that."

He waved his hand through the air, and continued to look at the makeshift pane. "Well, I think this is as good as it gets. How 'bout I check the locks on your doors?"

"You sure I couldn't get you something to drink? Oh, of course, you're on your way home to your girlfriend, aren't you?"

"Uh, no, nothing, thank you." Goren tugged on the chain part of the chain lock. He opened the door, and squatted, turning the door handle left and right, examining the thickness of the bolt. "Well, I think you're as safe as you can be. And most perps don't usually come back." He tried to reassure her. She gave him a wilted half smile and looked at the floor.

"Tell you what." Bobby said, and Callie raised her head with a start. Bobby took another of his cards out of his leather folder, turned it over and wrote something on the back of it. Handing it to her he said "Here's my home number, I'll be closer than the police station, if something happens, call me." He smiled at her, and closing the door behind him, "Don't forget to lock up now."

She smiled, turning to rest her back against the door, hugging herself "And you'll come rescue me" she whispered.

*****

Goren hadn't even made it two steps inside the door the next morning, when he spotted Eames headed toward him. He knew what the look on her face meant. "We've got a hit on one of the prints." She reached him with three long strides, and handed him the rap sheet. 

"Lorenzo Gibbs, breaking and entering…assault with a deadly weapon…"

"He damn near killed a man who came home while Lorenzo was robbing him."

"Let's go."

*****

"LORENZO, NYPD OPEN UP" Goren pounded on the door with one fist; the other clutched his gun, poised and ready. Eames stood to one side of the door, back pressed against the wall, her gun too, out of it's holster and ready.

He could hear scrambling sounds inside, mumbling voices. "LORENZO, OPEN IT UP" Tired of waiting, Goren simply kicked in the door. Lorenzo Gibbs, standing in the middle of the room, three feet from Goren, his gun also ready, and pointed at Goren.

"I ain't going." Lorenzo could have been pleading.

"DROP YOUR WEAPON!" Both Goren and Eames shouted. Lorenzo didn't drop it, in fact, he raised it up just slightly, so it was pointed directly at Goren's head. "I SAID DROP YOUR WEAPON!" Eames shouted again. Both her and Goren's guns were aimed at Lorenzo. "THIS IS THE LAST TIME, DROP YOUR WEAPON!" 

No one can see a finger begin to pull a trigger, it goes to fast, there's too much that happens after that trigger is pulled. But cops develop an instinct; they know when the gun is about to be fired. Bobby knew and fired his gun, the bullet hitting Lorenzo square in the chest.

*****

"It's a clean shooting, you don't have anything to worry about. But," Deakins sighed, "you know procedure as well as I do. I'll need you to turn in your weapon until the investigation is over." 

Bobby didn't like handing over his weapon, but he did.

"Go home. Get some sleep." Deakins told him.

Det. Goren walked out of the station, his head low. Other officers moved out of his way, glancing at each other as they did so. Goren didn't like killing anyone, even someone like Lorenzo, whose life seemed to have been wasted. He felt bad, but at the same time knew that if he hadn't done what he did, it would have been him lying in the morgue right now.

*****

Unlocking his door, he instantly knew something was wrong. Something in the air, what was that? Some kind of cooking smell. 

"Bobby, is that you honey?" A female voice called out from the bedroom. He knew that voice, concentrated on the voice, but not completely ignoring the fact that voice had just called him honey. Instinctively, he reached for his side arm. It wasn't there. _Damn. Now what?_ He'd made it to the door of the bedroom, and Callie Goldis met him there. She was wearing a black dress, and her feet were bare. She stood on her toes, and kissed him on the side of his mouth. "Dinner will be done in just a couple of minutes, you like spaghetti, don't you?" She moved toward the kitchen. Goren grabbed her arm, and spun her to face him.

"What are you doing here?"

"Silly." She pulled her arm free of his grasp; he hadn't held her all that tightly. "I called the station, and they told me what happened today, so I came over to cook you dinner, and to make you feel better." With that last part, she reached up and put her hand on the back of his neck. "You want me to make you feel better, don't you?" She whispered. Goren felt the pressure she was applying, she wanted him to bend down, to kiss her. He didn't understand completely, but he did understand that there was something wrong with this girl. He knew she had pulled a relationship with him out of thin air. He also knew he had to play along until he figured a way to end this. In response to her question, he uttered a "yeah, I guess I do" and gently kissed her.

"Enough of that, big boy. Dinner's about to burn." She giggled and skipped into the kitchen. Goren followed her.

"Spaghetti, huh. My favorite. What can I do?" 

"Nothing, just go and sit down, I'll bring it out in a minute."

Goren sat at his dining table, staring at the candles and the flowers she'd brought with her. He replayed every encounter with her. The interview that morning, the phone call, the few minutes at her apartment that night. What had he said? More importantly, what had he missed? Her shyness that night, the way her stance had changed, that might have been a sign of something, but surely not a sign of this, this, fantasy. He hadn't said anything to make her believe he was interested in her, of that he was sure. What was it? What had made her lock on to him? He heard her coming, and refocused his attention back to the present.

"Looks good, thank you." He smiled up at her, as she set the pile of spaghetti down in front of him. She grinned back at him, happy in her world.

"So, tell me, I haven't given you a key," he paused, "yet" and gave her a knowing smile, "How did you get in?" 

"I told the super I was your sister. He let me in." Still smiling at him, delighted with herself.

"So, tell me, Callie, how long have we been seeing each other?" He lifted a forkful into his mouth, glancing at her.

"_Silly_!" She giggled. "We haven't." He almost allowed himself to relax a little at that.

"But I knew you wanted me. I could tell, the way you stared into my eyes, when we first met. The way you came right over when I called and told you I was scared. You even made it a point of telling me you didn't have a girlfriend, and then, you gave me your home phone number! God, Bobby, I half expected you to push me down and make love to me on the living room floor!"

He stared at her, the fork poised, frozen in mid air. She was right. Everything she had said was true. He had stared at her during the interview, it was part of his job, she just didn't know that. He had gone over when she'd called, and he had given her his phone number.

Her giggle broke his revelry. "You're thinking about it right now, aren't you? You wish you had made love to me, don't you, Silly!" 

"Um, Callie…I ah, don't know how…" she cut him off.

"No more talking now. Eat your dinner, this must have been a hard day for you."

"I'll, I'll be right back, excuse me." He stood and headed to his bedroom, and the bedroom phone. Picking up the receiver, he held it to his ear. There was no dial tone. His eyes traced the cord, and found the place where she'd cut it.

"No one will be able to bother us, darling. And, I just broke your cell phone, so it won't be interrupting us either." She stood in the doorway, leaning against the door jam. He could see it now; see her insanity in her eyes. And the weight of his situation hit him. No gun, no phone, alone with a mad woman who was in love with him.

*****

"You send Goren home?" Eames asked Deakins as came into the squad room, sitting at her desk.

"Yeah. I don't see a problem with IA, but he needed to not be here." Deakins answered, taking a file a uniformed officer was handing him.

"I just tried calling, there was no answer, or on his cell." Eames looked a little worried about her partner.

"He's probably with that woman who called earlier." The uniform offered, and smiled a boy's club smile. 

"What woman?" Eames asked.

"Dunno, some woman called and asked for him, said she was his girlfriend. I told her he was on his way home."

"Did you know he had a girlfriend?" Deakins looked at Eames.

"No. He's never mentioned anyone."

"Huh. Well, go ahead and call Callie Goldis, tell her she doesn't need to worry anymore."

"Callie Goldis?" asked the uniform "That's the girlfriend."

Eames and Deakins looked at each other. Both of their internal cop alarms were ringing. "I had to confiscate his gun." Deakins realized.

*****

She'd sat him down on his couch. Kneeling in front of him, she was telling him why they were meant for each other. She didn't mean to, but she was pleading with him.

"Bobby, we'll be _so _good together, you just wait and see." She was running her hands up and down his thighs. 

"Callie. I came over that night because I thought you were frightened. I was trying to help you. That's _my job_."

"Oh, I know, and you're so good at it, my darling. That's why I love you. You found that man, and you killed him so I wouldn't have to be afraid anymore." She reached her body up, so she was face to face with him. Her hands leaving his legs, now on his chest. "It could be so good, you just have to relax and let go…" her voice and her hands trailed off.

Goren grabbed her hands in his and held them tightly together. "No." The sternness in his voice, and the strength in his grip startled her. She stared at him. "No," he repeated, I will not relax; I will not let this go any further. You need help Callie."

"So help me." She teased.

"No." Stern again. "You need a doctor. I don't know why this happened, but I do know that it's not your fault. I'm going to take you to the hospital, and I'm going to make sure you get the help you need." He stood up, her hands clasped in one of his.

"NO" she screamed, he hadn't prepared himself for the sudden burst, and he lost his grip on her hands. She quickly jerked her hands away, connecting with a table lamp, sending it crashing to the floor. Callie fell with the weight of her own inertia onto all fours, and started to crawl away. "I won't go." Pleading, "Don't make me leave you, Bobby, PLEASE."

Outside, as Deakins and Eames approached the door, they heard the 'no' Callie had screamed and the crash. 

Goren had grabbed her again, from behind, as she'd tried to crawl away from him. Suddenly his door burst open and there stood Eames and Deakins, guns drawn. Callie stopped struggling and collapsed onto the floor.

*****

"It's going to take a lot of time, but the doctor thinks he can help her." Goren was sitting in Deakins office. He'd ridden with Callie in the ambulance, and had stayed until she had calmed down. 

"It's not your fault, Goren." Eames offered. 

"Yeah. Well…I should have…."he trailed off, not knowing what he should have done.


End file.
